


Ten Ways to a Healthy Sibling Relationship

by midnightdiddle (gooseberry)



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Child Experimentation, Human Experimentation, M/M, Obsession, Sibling Incest, Siblings, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 03:33:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1883766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gooseberry/pseuds/midnightdiddle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i></i>
</p><p>“Yes,” Nero says, but sometimes Nero forgets things, and the kitten doesn’t like Nero very much.  It scratches his hand, and when Nero lays it on Weiss’s bed, it’s quiet and cold and a little blood is coming out of its mouth.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Nero says, and Weiss looks furious, the way Weiss does when Rosso comes in first in class, or when Azul holds Weiss’s things up high where Weiss can’t reach.  “I’m sorry.”</p><p>Weiss snaps Nero’s arm like Nero had snapped the kitten’s neck, and Nero bites his cheek until it bleeds.</p><p>---</p><p>A ficlet for <span class="ljuser i-ljuser i-ljuser-type-P"></span><a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://marmaladecat.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://marmaladecat.livejournal.com/"><b>marmaladecat</b></a>. Final Fantasy VII, spoilers for Dirge of Cerberus.</p><p>It's difficult to be good brothers. Nero/Weiss, so-not-subtle incest, 'cause they're so on each other. Obsession, obsession, and obsession. <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Ways to a Healthy Sibling Relationship

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my [livejournal](http://midnightdiddle.livejournal.com/146799.html#cutid1).

**1\. communication**

The attendants complain about the summer heat when they come through the doors, fanning themselves with sheets of paper, lab coats unbuttoned.

Nero doesn't understand their words because it is never hot here, miles below Midgar. It is cool at times, and at times the metal of the floors, the walls, the beds, and the tables, are cold against Nero's skin, but it is never hot.

He asks Weiss, but Weiss doesn't understand either, and tells Nero to get back to their books, because the day is passing too quickly to spend it upon the upper world.

 

**2\. independence**

Nero can nearly touch the upper world. He's certain that he can get there if he tries, because darkness is everywhere, inside and outside, and Nero controls the darkness.

He wants to go more than most anything else, because he wants to feel sweat upon his skin, and the wind, and the sun. He wants to walk upon something other than metal, and to not hear his voice echo through the hallways. He wants, and he dreams, and one day he goes, portal leading from the bedroom to just outside the last set of fire-doors.

The sun is bright in his eyes, far brighter than any lab lights, and Nero has to squint and blink. He wants to cover his eyes, but he wants to see everything, too, and so he stares and the world stares back, and it blinds him.

He turns to Weiss to say, "you see, you see?" but Weiss isn't there. Weiss isn't by Nero's side, and the sunlight seems ever brighter.

It's with feeling of dying that Nero throws himself into darkness, feels himself hit a metal floor, hands close enough to catch Weiss's feet and pull him to the ground.

"What?" Weiss asks, and he sounds confused, and maybe a little angry. "What? What is it?"

"Nothing," Nero says, and he doesn't say that there is a light brighter than Weiss, because that, more than all else, is sacrilege.

 

**3\. forgiveness**

Weiss steals a kitten from a lab three floors up, slipping the claws and fur into his shirt. He saunters back to their room, smiling at the attendants like the good boy everyone calls him, and Nero watches with hungry eyes, wanting to pet something soft and warm and alive.

“What’ll you name it?” Nero asks, sitting on Weiss’s bed, watching Weiss hold the kitten up, eyeing it carefully.

“Whatever I want,” Weiss says, and Nero holds out his hands. Weiss looks at Nero, frowns, and turns the kitten this way and that as it mews. “It’s mine, Nero.”

“Yes,” Nero says conviction, and he watches the way the kitten puts its claws into Weiss’s skin. Weiss pulls his hand away, sucks upon the scratches, and Nero tries not to bounce on the bed.

“You can play with it,” Weiss says grudgingly, and the kitten barely makes a dent on the bed’s thin blankets. “Just don’t break it, it’s mine.”

“Yes,” Nero says, but sometimes Nero forgets things, and the kitten doesn’t like Nero very much. It scratches his hand, and when Nero lays it on Weiss’s bed, it’s quiet and cold and a little blood is coming out of its mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Nero says, and Weiss looks furious, the way Weiss does when Rosso comes in first in class, or when Azul holds Weiss’s things up high where Weiss can’t reach. “I’m sorry.”

Weiss snaps Nero’s arm like Nero had snapped the kitten’s neck, and Nero bites his cheek until it bleeds.

 

**4\. self-worth**

“You’re not very bright, are you?” Rosso asks, her red hair slipping out of her braid. She’s tilting her head to the side, looking at Nero, and Nero stares back from beside Weiss. “Is he, Weiss?”

“He’s good enough,” Weiss says coldly, and Nero follows Weiss’s footsteps.

“Weiss,” Nero says. Weiss’s shoulders are straight, and his hair nearly touches the collar of his shirt. Nero wonders if his hair is as long as Weiss’s.

“You’re better than Rosso anyway,” Weiss says, angry and impatient, “why don’t you just tell her that?”

“Because,” Nero says. “And you?”

Weiss looks at him strangely, a little pitying and a little impatient, and almost smiles. “Stupid,” he says, and Nero follows him through the hallways, “no one’s better than me.”

 

**5\. patience**

“Nero,” Weiss snaps impatiently, “hurry up.” He’s leaning against the wall, frowning at Nero, and Nero slows down, takes his time to turn off the shower. The air feels cold on his skin as soon as the water stops, and Nero shivers a little, scrubbing at his hair.

“We’re going to be late,” Weiss says, still sounding angry, and Nero picks up a towel, uses it to scrub more fiercely at his hair.

“Why,” Nero asks, staring at Weiss, and Weiss is staring back, “do you care?” He scrubs his hair once more, then begins drying his arms, his chest.

“I don’t,” Weiss says, and now he sounds confused. Nero steps close, until his hair drips water on Weiss’s shirt.

“Then go without me,” he says, and he can’t quite help the little twist his stomach gives, the way he tilts his head so his mouth is almost against Weiss’s jaw.

“Idiot,” Weiss says thoughtlessly, and he grabs Nero’s towel, drapes it over Nero’s head. “Hurry up, we’re going to be late.”

 

**6\. respect**

Weiss’s bed is not quite two paces from Nero’s. It takes half a moment for Nero to move from his bed to Weiss’s, and it only takes a half-moment more for Nero to scuttle beneath the covers, until he’s lying shoulder to hip with Weiss, legs tangled together.

“Get out,” Weiss says sleepily, but his arm drapes over Nero’s hip, fingers brushing just beneath Nero’s shirt. Nero twists himself closer, so he can breathe in Weiss’s breath, and Weiss makes a grumbling sound.

“Not tired,” Nero says, because he’s not. He feels impossibly alive because the room is dark and it’s all calling out to him, trying to crawl into his veins, and so he wants to crawl into Weiss’s veins, make Weiss feel as alive. He moves his head until he can bite Weiss’s shoulder, and he does so, smiling to himself in the dark.

Weiss’s sleepy grumbles sharpen to a near-whine, and Weiss half-shoves at Nero. Nero holds tight, twists their legs together even more, and after a few moments Weiss gives up.

“Don’t bite me,” Weiss says, sleepy as ever, and Nero makes a humming noise. He lets his hands touch Weiss, across Weiss’s arms and shoulders, chest and stomach, down to the spot between Weiss’s legs.

“Does it feel good?” Nero asks, curious, because Weiss’s sleepy sighs have become breathy sighs, and he feels nearly as alive as Nero. Weiss makes a sound, arm tightening around Nero’s waist, and Nero just wishes he could crawl into his brother’s veins.

 

**7\. understanding**

There is something wrong. Weiss is growing quieter, paler, angrier, and Nero can’t understand why. The attendants don’t talk as much, and they move quicker, their footsteps clattering upon the floors. Nero watches them argue over files, narrow-eyed and sharp-mouthed, and he wonders.

“How does it feel?” Rosso asks Weiss, propping one long leg up on the table, then the other. Her fingers play with her training pants, tugging at the fabric, but she’s staring at Weiss like she can’t understand something, and Nero wonders all the more.

“Be quiet, Rosso,” Weiss says snappishly, and he’s getting up to walk away, catching Nero’s arm as he goes. “Nero.”

Nero follows Weiss quickly, looking back at Rosso’s thoughtful face. Rosso sees him, waggles her fingers in a little wave, and Nero can’t smile back.

“What is it?” Nero asks, and Weiss’s fingers feel a little colder than usual, as though he was lying upon the floor without a blanket.

“Nothing,” Weiss says quickly, but he’s looking back at Nero, the same look he gives Nero when Nero’s touching him. “Would you die for me, Nero?”

It’s a stupid question, Nero thinks, because there’s nothing in the world but Weiss, and Nero will always die for him, a thousand times over. Nero laughs, a smile and a shrug, and he doesn’t understand why Weiss’s hands are so cold.

 

**8\. cooperation**

“Give me your hand,” Nero says, and Weiss smacks his hand away without a glance.

“Don’t touch me,” Weiss says, lounging further back in his chair. “I don’t want you to touch me.”

“Give me,” Nero repeats, and he can feel the shadows in the corners of the room whisper to him, “your hand.” The world is crumbling to ash, above them and below, and Weiss is sitting in his chair as though it was a throne, and he was king.

“Nero,” Weiss snaps, and there is a crack as he smacks away Nero’s hand again, and Nero stares at his arm, where his bone is sticking, white, through his skin and shirt.

“Nero,” Weiss says, and he’s staring at Nero’s arm, too. “Leave me alone. Go bother Rosso and Azul.”

“You’re an idiot,” Nero says, and he sinks down to the floor, cradling his arm. He’s sure Azul will find them soon, because Azul can find them all, but no one comes, and he’s bleeding upon his shirt. The attendants will be angry, he knows, because he ruins all of his clothes, but the attendants don’t come, either, and the shadows in the room are calling even louder.

Weiss’s hand rests on top of Nero’s head, fingers tangling in Nero’s hair, and Nero leans against his throne, because Weiss is more than a king. Somehow, Weiss has become a god.

 

**9\. perseverance**

Weiss falls with Deepground, with the metal and bodies that clatter upon the floors, loud enough to pull Nero from the shadows. Weiss looks at Nero, a confused, lost look on his face, and Nero catches Weiss as he falls.

“I can’t,” Weiss says, turning his face away from Nero’s, and Nero holds him close, drags him into darkness where he builds a cocoon around him, strands of empty black, warm and safe.

Weiss is light, though, and darkness can never swallow the light. Nero settles for hiding the light, covering Weiss with himself, and waits for the day Weiss wakes up. Then, Weiss can take over it all, because the light will always swallow the darkness and turn it into light.

Nero hopes it’s not a day long in coming.

 

**10\. love**

“You can’t save him,” Rosso says, playing with a curl of her hair, twisting it about her finger. She’s not even looking at Nero, and Nero wants to catch her hair and pull until Rosso screams.

“Help me, then,” he says instead, turning to look towards Shelke and Azul. Shelke’s turning away, an uncomfortable look on her face, and Azul stares back at Nero, silent and uncaring.

“Why should we?” Rosso asks, and she flicks her hair back over her shoulder, twists in her chair to fold her long legs over each other.

“If you don’t,” Nero says, and it’s easy to pull darkness in from the shadows, drag it into the center of the room, “I’ll kill you.”

Rosso blinks slowly, lips pursing together. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because he’s Weiss,” Nero says, because he can’t understand why they don’t understand, because Weiss is everything and more. He can’t begin to explain it, because there are no words that can explain Weiss, but Rosso’s beginning to smile now.

“Then,” Rosso says, “all heil Weiss.”

“Yes,” Nero says, and he can’t help but smile back at Rosso. “All heil Weiss.”


End file.
